


where has your love gone, sad boy?

by asphyxiatinghypnotic



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), M/M, Someone dies sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 20:27:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14268891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asphyxiatinghypnotic/pseuds/asphyxiatinghypnotic
Summary: eddie kaspbrak keeps a pair of shoes.





	where has your love gone, sad boy?

**Author's Note:**

> this has been revised, its been proofread more than once, and I hope it's okay. strap in for this ride, hopefully i'll make you SLIGHTLY upset. okay, thanks, bye.
> 
> EDIT: I've double spaced the memories from the present, but I'm thinking about spacing out the dialogue so you can tell when a paragraph ends and starts on when reading mobile. Thanks for reading!

when eddie kaspbrak was 13, he had a meltdown over sneakers his mother wanted to sell. they were his, and they had been through just about everything. eddie couldn’t fit them anymore, so they laid on his desk. they were dirty and they were a piece of eddie. so eddie, of course, got upset. they were history and they had carried him through adventures with his best friend and they were his favorite color and you could tell where the history laid and-  
they were just sneakers, but he had won the argument.  
now eddie is sixteen, and his shoes hang off his door handle. the laces are tied in a tight knot, and eddie still loves them. sometimes, he wonders how he had begged his mom so well to keep them. the shoes are so dirty and they don’t even look like they did when they had been first bought. eddie doesn’t care, though, he still loves them. his friends are also confused as to why he keeps them, and he tells them they have sentimental value. the truth hurts a little to bad too admit. they do have sentimental value, though, and he will never let those shoes go. they are a reminder of when richie tozier rocked eddie’s world. 

eddie met richie when he was seven. richie was picking at rocks on the playground as eddie sat at a park bench reading a book. richie plops down beside him, and he’s holding a rock. a rock that’s maybe a little too sharp for a seven-year-old to be holding. and eddie is right, because he hears the boy beside him suck in a sharp breath, and when e looks over, he sees the boy has managed to cut a small cut into his palm. it’s bleeding quite a bit, and it frightens eddie at first, he’s not used to seeing blood. his mother has kept him so guarded from any kind of injuries by keeping him in the house he hasn’t managed to really blood from another person. he knows what to do, so he whips a bandaid out from his pocket and hands it to the boy.  
“you know, you’d come in real handy! i get hurt a lot,” he says, putting the bandaid on quickly. his voice is a little high, but not as high as eddie’s. he’s in a loose fitting shirt, with jeans that seems just a tad too big, and sneakers that are nearly torn to shreds, it irks eddie. there are germs all around them and here’s this boy, he is absolutely filthy. eddie feels a little sick.  
“i’m richie tozier! nice to meet you!” richie says enthusiastically sticking his hand out. eddie gingerly grabs it.  
“i’m eddie kaspbrak.”

eddie turns around on his bed and curls up a little tighter. he can’t look at the shoes. they bare too much memory of richie, and eddie doesn’t need that at this moment. tears blur his vision and he could play sick and miss school for the fourth time this month, but his mom would get too suspicious. so eddie pushes himself off the bed and stops just for a moment and looks at the shoes tied to his doorknob. and suddenly richie is with him, lying on his back laughing too hard at a joke eddie told. the joke wasn’t even that funny, eddie knows this because nothing he does is ever that funny. richie always laughed hard at eddie’s unfunny jokes. eddie misses richie. 

when richie was eight, he started sitting with eddie at lunch. eddie usually sat alone, but there were a few kids who sat near him, though. eddie hadn’t realized who richie was at first, but once he hears the boys voice he knew right away.  
“richie?” eddie had said as he bit into his sandwich. which, for one, is rude, and two, disgusting. richie is dressed a little nicer this time, he has a sweatshirt on and he’s dressed in more fitting jeans, but he’s wearing the same beat up shoes. eddie doesn’t make a comment about it, because that’s also rude and he was raised to be a respectable young man. he was also taught to fear things he couldn’t control, which was, well, a lot. richie sat his lunch tray on the table in front of eddie and smiles at him. a wide toothy smile that’s missing a few teeth, and it makes eddie want to smile right back at him. so he does.  
“i don’t think i remember your name completely. somethin’ like spaghetti, right?” richie says, putting a hand to his mouth as if he is thinking. it makes eddie laugh, but he doesn’t like the name spaghetti.  
“no, it’s eddie,” eddie says. richie nods.  
“eddie. nice name!”

eddie shoulders his backpack, he’s skipping breakfast because he doesn’t feel like eating or seeing his mother. she’ll try to make him take bullshit medication and try to talk some bullshit into him and he does not want to put up with it right now. he walks out the door. he’s in the clothes he’s been wearing for the past two days, one of richie’s shirts, a pair of jeans, and a pair of black converse. he’s sure he’s going to pass out in one of his classes because he didn’t sleep last night and anytime he does try to sleep it never works out. he tosses and he turns and he never gets a wink of sleep. richie is tearing eddie apart, and eddie is hanging on by only a thread. 

when eddie was nine, he and richie were best friends. there was also stanley uris and bill denbrough, who they had become friends with later on in the year, but were just as close with. fourth grade was a pretty awesome year, and richie was still loud and energetic as always. he often was sent to the principal’s office for speaking out and acting up, but everyone was friends with him. everyone liked him. and when they were ten and in fifth grade, not much was different. everyone still liked richie and richie had plenty friends. richie was adventurous and if eddie got lucky enough, he’d get to go on those adventures with richie. only if his mother allowed him too, though.

eddie makes his way to the bus stop. beverly sits there, she’s slightly dishevelled, but she seems to be doing well. she’s moving on quicker, or she’s trying. when she sees eddie she shoots off the bench faster than eddie can snap and wraps her arms around him. he hadn’t been at school last week, and he’d missed beverly and clearly, she’d missed him too. beverly rubs his back and it takes all of eddie’s willpower not to begin sobbing right there. he takes in a shaky breath, though. he can handle a school day without richie, he knows he can, he’s done it before. eddie has handled a school day without richie several times before, but richie isn’t coming back this time. he half expects richie to come skipping up the sidewalk, yapping on excitedly about today. he holds beverly a little tighter. 

when eddie is eleven and both him and richie start middle school, things shift. the kids aren’t as nice anymore and nobody really likes richie. they find him too much of a nuisance to care about and so they make fun of how he never stops talking or about the trash mouth he has. his trash mouth earns him his very own title, trash mouth. given by the losers club affectionately and taken into the hands of grimy kids for malice. everyone has a sharp knife as a tongue and everyone is stabbing each other in the back. the losers gang stay tight, and they’re wary who they let in. which is no one, they don’t let anyone in. they’re too scared.

when beverly lets go of eddie and eddie lets go of beverly, they both collapse onto the bus bench.  
“you look like hell,” beverly says, looking at eddie.  
“i feel like hell, too,” eddie replies. he rubs his eyes and leans his head back, closing them. when he opens them back up, beverly’s leg is bouncing wildly.  
“greta hasn’t lifted, so stay away from her. our best friend may have died, but that’s just more fuel to her fire of hating us, for some reason,” beverly says, tossing her hands in the air. she gives an angry laugh.  
“it’s fucking bullshit, really,” beverly says bitterly. she fumbles around in her backpack pocket before grabbing a cigarette out of her pack and lighting it. she blows the smoke away from eddie and he thinks he might fall asleep on the bench. he won’t here, though, because he might miss his bus, and that is a risk he is not willing to take. so when he and beverly, and a few of the other kids that get on at his bus stop, get on the bus he takes the window seat from her and passes out. 

when eddie is twelve, he watches richie break his ankle in a creek they are walking in. he catches his foot wrong on a rock and when he turns around to get it out, he twists it even worse than before.  
sometimes, richie really is an idiot.  
richie is struggling to get his leg unstuck from the rock it’s underneath, and he’s horrified his parents will kill him. tears roll down his cheeks and this is the first time eddie has ever seen richie cry. eddie races to help richie, lifting the rock richie is caught on off his leg. richie lets out a squeal of pain and hops back onto shore as quick as he can. he’s still crying and he won’t be able to cycle home. that’s where the problem lies, how will richie get home?  
eddie cycles richie home that day. 

eddie is woken up by beverly once they get to school. eddie sighs, he’s slightly rested from the bus ride, but it won’t be enough to get him through the day. a kid bumps into eddie and he growls, not wanting to put up with any form of touch today besides from his friends. he’s longing for richie’s dumb commentary and light hand holding, he’s itching for it. he’s itching for richie’s presence, he just wants richie back. 

when eddie is twelve, he and richie climb trees like they are nothing. there’s a bridge they cycle to after school usually, and richie had placed rocks in the water so eddie wouldn’t have to wade through the disgusting water. richie enjoyed jumping from stone to stone just for fun, he had fallen in the water a couple of times. eddie didn’t know if it was on purpose or not. they climbed trees a lot, eddie was more careful than richie most of the time. richie has fallen from trees several times, making eddie panic a lot, but he’s never hurt himself too badly. it’s funny how richie hangs out with someone like eddie, because eddie is so careful and cautious while richie is so carefree and not cautious.  
eddie sits on a tree branch, swinging his legs. richie is sitting beside him, talking his ear off about anything and everything. eddie checks his watch, he should get home soon, but he doesn’t want to go. things are so much calmer here, with richie, than they are at home. his mother will yell and worry about him if he doesn’t get home soon, though. slowly, eddie begins to scale down the tree while richie jumps off the branch. richie lands in a roll and eddie nearly has a heart attack.  
“you really need to stop jumping off the tree branch, you’re gonna hurt yourself one day,” eddie says, softly landing on the grass. richie laughs, giving him a large smile.  
“i haven’t yet, have i, eddie?” richie says, holding his hands out. eddie rolls his eyes with a smile and pulls his backpack on, lifting it from the ground. richie grabs his own backpack and lifts his bike from the ground.  
“no, you haven’t.”

it’s a little strange walking into school again without richie by his side. it’s not the first time, no, he’s done it several times now, but it’s still strange. when they make it to the lunchroom, eddie can immediately pick out his friend group. he can see stan’s curly hair, bill’s tallness, along with mike’s tallness, and ben’s smallness. when they see eddie, it’s almost like they let out a sigh they had no clue they were holding in. bill waves and so does stan, ben is looking for something in his backpack, while mike is reading a book. eddie lifts a hand in response and beverly gives a wave back too.  
“hey, how are you guys?” stan asks, which is a particularly dumb question because none of them are doing good. they’re all ready to snap at the next person who says something to them. eddie is completely surprised that beverly, or even stan for that matter, has not punched greta keene in the face. she deserves it, really, and they all want to do it. bill won’t do it because, despite her harsh comments, he’s too nice. ben can’t do it because he’s also way too nice, and mike will get in trouble at home and he doesn’t want to do that.  
“better,” eddie shrugs. it’s a lie, he knows it is once it leaves his mouth. he has not been doing better, he’s only been wallowing deeper in sadness. it’s sucked, really. he’s locked himself in his room and his mother has given up trying to get him out of it. it’s been a mess at his house, lately.

when eddie is thirteen, he watches richie walk over a tree branch over a small pond. it frightens eddie at first, but as he watches richie walk on it, he knows that he can do it, too. richie gracefully hops off the end of the log and waves at eddie from the other side.  
“you should come over here! it’s different!” richie shouts. eddie huffs out a laugh, nervous.  
“how different?” he shouts back.  
“different enough for you to get over here!” richie shouts, cupping his hands around his mouth to make himself louder. eddie snorts and steps up onto the log. a wave of nausea hits him like a ton of bricks. this feels like a really bad idea suddenly. richie is over there, though, waiting for him. eddie can do this. he knows he can do this. it’ll be okay.  
eddie does not expect to fall into the water.  
when he breaks the surface, he gasps a breath of air. coughing because he choked on water when he fell in. eddie swims to the closest shore near him and feels a little exhausted. he doesn’t really remember falling in or taking steps on the log, but he did and now he’s on the same bank as richie. richie immediately dives beside him.  
“are you okay?” richie asks. eddie coughs and nods. richie is crouched down beside him, rubbing his back. eddie wipes his eyes and face, it’s colder than eddie thought. he shivers, richie notices.  
“let’s get you home.”

eddie has first period with greta keene and stan. he tries at all costs to avoid greta, and it works mostly, until the bell rings for second period. she catches him in the hall, and eddie feels his stomach drop. he tries to get away from her, but she ends up blocking his way with her arm. he stops right before running into it.  
“what do you want?” he asks. the words are icy. he doesn’t want to put up with whatever greta is going to give him today. she only gets to open her mouth before he shoves her out of his way, making his way to his second period.

when eddie is thirteen, he learns the medication his mother has been feeding him for years is complete and utter bullshit. he feels betrayed and hurt and lost. his own mother was lying to him, maybe it was for the greater good, but the medications were all lies. he wants to cry, mostly. he can’t believe his own mother would lie to him like this, but she has and she been for years now.  
something in eddie shifts.  
he’s less trusting, he no longer wants to stick by his mother’s side in every dangerous situation. he realizes he can do things on his own. while yes, there are several disgusting things out there, but a liar is far more dangerous than an adventurer. he hates the fact that his mother doesn’t deny that she’s been lying to him about the medication, and maybe that’s what pours salt into the wound. he hates the way that he has a full on breakdown as soon as he closes the door to his room. he hates it, he hates it, he hates it. why had she been lying to him so long? he wants to run, but he doesn’t know where.  
where?

greta doesn’t try to talk to him for the rest of the day. he doesn’t ever run into greta either, which he is grateful for. by the time lunch rolls around, eddie has fallen asleep in english class and math class and he is bound to fall asleep during lunch. his mind is on richie. he’s been so focused on richie that he’s tuned everyone out. he hates that everything is just so difficult with richie gone because he used to be here helping him out.  
sitting at the lunch table, most everyone is already eating. eddie takes a seat at their table and pulls out his own lunch. they’re talking softly and it’s nice, for once, and eddie smiles for the first time in a while. Stan says a joke that gets everyone to laugh, and it feels good.

when eddie is thirteen, he freaks out about a pair of sneakers. his mother wants to sell them, but eddie wants to keep them. they’re dirty, the grey of them being stained with mud and dirt along with stains from dirty water. his mother hates how dirty they are, horrified at the germs and everything else that could be on them. eddie holds them closer each time she tries to take them from him. he hasn’t been able to wear them for a month, but they mean too much to him to let them go. sonia lets out a frustrated sigh and gives up. eddie is thankful and he rushes up to his room, gently placing them on his desk. the sneakers hold sentimental value, they remind him of all the good memories he has with richie. they remind him of how happy he is.

when eddie is fourteen, he and richie sit atop a tree and they talk. all they do is talk because it’s nice to talk. richie looks extremely nervous, he’s picking at his fingers, making them bleed slightly.  
“richie, are you okay?” eddie asks. richie inhales and exhales, he looks a little lost. richie pushes his glasses up on his nose.  
“i, eddie, i’m bisexual, i think,” richie says. his voice is shaky and his hands are also shaking. eddie is silent, he doesn’t know what to say or how to react.  
“okay then,” eddie says, he’s confused, but he’s okay with this, he thinks. richie takes his glasses off and wipes his eyes.  
“thanks,” richie breaths, putting his glasses back on. eddie smiles softly.  
“no problem.”

once school ends and eddie is home, he gently waves to his mother and heads up to his room. eddie collapses onto his bed after tossing his backpack on the floor. he looks at his ceiling and plays with the blankets on his bed. eddie closes his eyes.

when eddie is fourteen, richie kisses him. they’re sitting on richie’s porch steps and richie is smoking a cigarette (which eddie still hasn’t gotten used too) when richie puts the cigarette out and turns to eddie. he looks like he considers something, before standing up.  
“let’s go to the tree,” richie grins. eddie pushes himself off of the steps and stands beside richie. richie walks over to his back and picks it up off the ground and eddie kicks the stand up off of his.  
once they reach the top of the tree, they just sit there. it’s quiet and the breeze is pushing eddie’s hair across his forehead. it’s ruffling richie’s hair, his curls falling across his forehead. richie reaches over to brush some of the hair of eddie’s face. the breeze of the fall feels nice, it’s gentle and calming. eddie has missed this breeze.  
suddenly, richie is kissing him.  
eddie isn’t angry about it, he doesn’t know what to do about it. richie is impulsive, so eddie immediately assumes that this is an impulsive mood on richie’s part. deep down, though, eddie knows it isn’t. eddie can’t react, he’s frozen in his spot and slightly panicking. richie pulls away and puts his head in his hands.  
“God, I’m-I’m sorry, Eds. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m such an impulsive idiot,” richie states, exasperated.  
oh. so it was impulsive. eddie doesn’t know why he feels as disappointed as he does. 

eddie looks to his door, there’s something missing from the knob. the shoes, eddie thinks. the shoes are missing. where are the shoes? where are the shoes? what did his mother did do with the shoes? what if his mother sold the shoes? oh no. what if his mother sold the shoes. 

when eddie is fifteen, he realizes something about himself. he realizes that he isn’t attracted to girls and never will be. he thinks about his and richie’s kiss when they were fourteen, and he thinks about how disappointed he was. one day, while they’re sitting in richie’s bedroom, eddie turns to him and kisses him. richie is shocked at first, but softly cups his hands around eddie’s jaw. eddie melts, this feels good and he feels happy. he feels that maybe he’s done lying to himself, done with all this bullshit.  
“what was that for?” richie asks, once they pull apart. eddie grins and shrugs.  
“a thank you.”

when eddie is fifteen, his boyfriend, who was also conveniently his best friend, dies. he dies with no one around him, he dies alone. no one to hear his cries as he fell to the ground, no one to hear his last words. it rocks eddie’s world, it shakes eddie deep down. when his mother tells him the news, he doesn’t cry at first. he goes numb, hoping it’s some sick joke that richie is pulling himself, but even eddie knows richie isn’t that cruel. he denies it for a long time. it keeps him up at night, though, and that’s when the reality of it hits him. it feels like he’s been shoved into a pool of ice cold water and the shock is just getting to him. he’s crying before he even registers he’s crying and then he is sobbing. he has a hand over his mouth in hopes to not awake his sleeping mother, which he is sure he won’t do. eddie still thinks this is some lie, some sick lie formed by richie, and he wants to wake up the next day and see richie waiting for him at twelve p.m. sharp on his porch steps.  
he won’t be, though.  
because richie was careless, and the one night richie is careless eddie isn’t with him. richie fell out of a fucking tree and broke his neck, and eddie thinks that maybe if he was there, he could have saved richie. he’s screaming at himself because all he needed to be was there with richie and maybe richie would still be alive. maybe richie would be sneaking in through eddie’s fucking window right now and kissing him and holding his hand. richie is stuck as a was now.

eddie is pounding downstairs into the living room before he can grab ahold of his scattered thoughts. all he can think about is the fact that his mom sold the shoes he holds so dearly to him. he’s sure she did it, too. eddie is sure his mother waited until he was at school to take them from his doorknob and sell them at goodwill or somewhere else. eddie is so sure of this that it hurts.  
“ma,” eddie says, slightly out of breath.  
“did you sell the shoes?” he asks, and the words sound harsh when they leave his mouth. his mother looks at him, and his stomach falls.  
“eddie-bear, i had too,” she says. eddie inhales and tears flood his vision.  
“no, you didn’t. do you know how much those shoes meant to me?” he asks, hurt evident in his voice. he seems to phase his mom a little. not very much, but just enough to make her expression fall.  
“eddie, those things were so dirty and old,” she says. eddie wipes his eyes.  
“but, ma, those meant something to me! you had no right to take them away from me!” eddie yells. anger won’t bring them back, though, it’ll only make his mother feel guilty.

when eddie is fifteen, he goes to the first funeral he can remember. his mother doesn’t go with him, and he’s glad she doesn’t. he meets in the small group with bill, ben, mike, beverly, and stan when he gets to the funeral home. he has an open casket, surely something richie would have wanted. all of the losers go up there at the same time, and eddie is racked with sobs. richie is pale, he’s always been pale, but he looks even worse. he doesn’t look real, he doesn’t look like richie. the suit richie is dressed in doesn’t suit him, richie is more suited for the dumb hawaiian shirts he wore. beverly is the first one to hug him. her hug is tight and firm and she’s crying too. slowly, it becomes a large group hug of sobbing teenagers.  
by the time the burial rolls around, eddie is exhausted. he goes to the burial, though, and cries some more, because there isn’t much else he can do. 

eddie is done fighting with his mother. he doesn’t want to listen to her bullshit excuses about not talking to her son before selling something so meaningful to him. he stomps back upstairs and slams his door closed. he feels confined in his room, like suddenly it’s too small for him to bear. so he gets up and walks out of his room and his house, not even saying goodbye to his mother. he picks his bike up off the ground and cycles to beverly’s house. she’ll help him calm down. she always helps him, and he doesn’t think she knows how thankful he is for that.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @funkyhypnotic


End file.
